Potential One Shot
by blazing wickedness
Summary: A Helga and Arnold fic...


Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognized.

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A blonde green-eyed teen lied awake in his bed one night with one thought in mind.

_Her._

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

Sighing, he sat up and glanced at the potato clock beside his bed that showed it was 3:47 in the morning. Since it's been acting up a bit, he checked his wristwatch for confirmation. It was indeed correct, he noted absently.

He supposed that the potato clock was a bit juvenile. He'd had it since he was a kid and he faintly remembered Gerald asking him why he just didn't get rid of the thing and buy a new clock. He shrugged it off and told him that he just liked it.

It wasn't a complete lie since he did like it. It just wasn't the absolute truth for he never expanded on _why_ he liked it. He didn't tell him that he liked it for the sole reason that s_he_ said she did at one point or another.

And there he goes again… entertaining thoughts about her. He couldn't explain why he can't stop thinking about her even for just a moment. It seemed to him that no matter what he does his thoughts linger upon her. It's like she's always there in the back of his mind. A presence that makes itself known with no effort whatsoever other than just… being there.

Lately though, it's becoming much worse. Not only does he dwell on her when his conscious but even in his subconscious, in his dreams. To make matters worse, it wasn't just regular dreams that friends sometimes have about their friends, but those non-platonic dreams that friends _aren't_ suppose to be having about friends.

"Bloodystupid hormones.." he muttered, burying his head on his arms.

He had to stop it, he decided.

It would do him no good mulling over it… do him no good to hope. They were friends and nothing more… just friends. But still, it was in his nature to hope, to be optimistic, and to always look at the bright side of things.

There's a part of him that believes that they have something special between them. A bond.

He's not exactly sure what type of bond it is, however, he is certain that it's there from the first time they met and it hasn't wavered since.

Letting out a breath, he opt that if he couldn't sleep he might as well go down in the kitchen and fix himself something up. Standing up from his bed, he ruffled his hair making it messier than it already is. He made his way across the room and opened the door. He trudged down the stairs lazily, letting out a yawn here and there.

Turning on the lights in the kitchen, he made his way straight to the fridge. After much deliberation he settled on the left over chicken that the boarders and he had for dinner.

He smiled softly as he recalled the time Gerald told him that the surest way to fall asleep is to stuff yourself with food.

"Well," he thought as he placed the now warm chicken in front of him, "there's no time other than the present to test this theory."

As he _tested_ Gerald's theory, he pondered on how he and Helga became friends. He figured it was when Gerald and Phoebe started going out and they were more or less forced by the situation to at least get along civilly.

He didn't really mind that much, then. It was for his friend and Arnold would do anything for his friend.

"Hmmm…" he mumbled to himself as he ate another slice of chicken.

Maybe Helga did the same thing. He knew that at that time Helga's hate for him was incomparable to his slight irritation for her. So, maybe hanging out with him was one way Helga gave Phoebe her support.

It didn't start off immediately. The road to their friendship wasn't easy to say the least. Of course, when it concerns Helga, nothing ever is.

It started out slowly. Helga tried to keep the insults to a minimum and he tried not to get riled up if she ever did. They had their fights and for a time they settled with ignoring each other's presence unless necessary. It worked until Phoebe and Gerald got into this huge fight and decided that it was best to cool off.

It lasted longer than any of their other fights. He could see how unhappy both of them were and Helga saw it too. He can't really pinpoint how they managed to get Phoebe and Gerald back together, but they did. And ever since then he and Helga started talking civilly and much more frequently that you could actually call them "acquaintances".

A year later, their relationship was getting better. Another year, their sophomore year, they could call each other friends. Until now at the age of nineteen, they were as close as ever.

As close as friends got…

Recently though, he wanted to be something _more_.

And _that_ was the problem.

Of late, he found himself obsessing about Helga. He realized that whenever she's around some other guy, whether that guy glanced at her longer than what he _deemed_ necessary, talked to her even for more than just a minute, laughed with her or even fought with her, he began seeing red.

Sometimes he caught himself noticing the twinkle in her eyes when she was happy, noticing the pink tinge her cheeks took when she blushed, noticing how adorable she looked flushed either in excitement or anger.

It occurred to him that he often found himself loving every moment he had with her and seeking her company without.

"Like now…" he thought vaguely.

As though his body had a mind of its own, he reached for the phone and dialed Helga's number. Hearing the ring, he panicked and felt the need to hang up.

First of all, he didn't know what he was doing. Second, he didn't know what to say. Third, he can't come up with a good reasonable explanation on why he just _had_ to call her at this ungodly hour that doesn't involved any life threatening situation on his part. Fourth, he _does_ know why he's calling her but he also knows that saying, "I can't stop thinking about you and I just missed hearing your voice, so I decided, hey, why not call you up…" would bode well with her.

Before he could come up with a fifth reason, Helga answered the phone her sleepiness overriding her irritation.

"What?" she asked.

Inadvertently, he noted that Helga's voice sounded spectacularly charming as a smile made its way on his face.

"Hey, Helga. It's me… Arnold."

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A/N: This is just something that's been bugging me for ages. I just _had_ to write it and get it out of my system.

Moving on, I would like to thank those who gave the time and effort to read this. If you have any opinions whatsoever regarding this fic, then please tell me and review. I would also fancy to know if you think I should continue this.

I suppose it could be a potential one-shot, as the title says. Not really sure though. I might get the drive to continue it, if, of course, I get enough reviews that would prove it wouldn't be a complete waste of time. Or I might just leave it as it is.

Anyway, your opinion is what matters the most and it all depends on you.

Have a great day.

Cherio!


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